


A Mournful Rustling

by shealynn88



Series: At the Root of Evil, Good; At the Heart of Light, Darkess [4]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shealynn88/pseuds/shealynn88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wondered if she'd ever get over this feeling of invasion – the discomfort of realizing that he knew intimate things about her, and she didn't even know how he liked his coffee...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mournful Rustling

**Author's Note:**

> AU after Bad Moon Rising 2X03

* * *

_"Alas!" said she, "he no longer knows me," and her grief was ever greater._

\- The True Sweetheart

* * *

Juliette had locked the door behind the Captain – _Sean_ , she had to remind herself again – so she jumped, heart in her throat, when she heard the door open.

She fumbled for her phone, remembered she'd left it in her purse, and then tried to gauge if she could make it through the back door to the car before they got to her.

“Juliette?”

“Oh, God,” she managed in a sigh of relief. She took a moment, forcing herself to take slow breathes. “Nick,” she called back, trying to keep her tone upbeat while her heart slowed to something approaching normal. “Hey, I'm in here.” 

She'd get used to it, she told herself. It was his house, too. 

It was just hard to remember that when all her memories of painting, decorating, and living there told her it was hers. Just hers.

She schooled her face into a smile and met him in the doorway to the kitchen. Her smile broadened when she saw the mixed bouquet in his hands. 

His returning smile was sweet and hopeful as he held out the bottle in his other hand.

She turned it in her hands and was pleasantly surprised by the label. “Mmm..Mondavi – my favorite,” she said, smiling up at him shyly. Then her smile faltered. “Of course, you know that.” She swallowed hard and turned away to get a vase out of the cabinet. 

He still felt like a stranger in her life. She wondered if she'd ever get over this feeling of invasion – the discomfort of realizing that he knew intimate things about her, and she didn't even know how he liked his coffee, or where he was from.

Juliette set the wine on the counter and turned to take the flowers. “Thank you,” she told him. “They're beautiful.” She started to turn back to put them in the vase, then stopped.

“How do you like your coffee?”

He cocked his head, surprised, and she laughed at the look on his face.

“Well,” he answered finally, “I usually go with milk, no sugar.”

She nodded, storing it away for later. She had a lot of inane facts to catch up on. “And where are you from, originally?”

A shadow passed over his face, and he looked at his hands. As if she'd asked him something intimate and painful.

“Rhinebeck,” he said finally. “Rhinebeck, New York.”

She nodded. She wanted to ask what had brought him to Oregon, but she didn't dare. It was impossible to know what might hurt him, and it made the prospect of getting to know him again feel like stepping into a minefield. “I'm sorry, Nick,” she said softly, touching his forearm. 

He smiled suddenly, eyes shining, and looked at her like she'd given him some sort of gift. “You don't ever need to be sorry,” he said softly. The emotion in his voice was palpable. The sheer expectation – of her, of them – was overwhelming. 

She dropped her eyes abruptly, and when she looked up again, his smile was strained.

“I'm going to see if we have anything for dinner,” he said, pointing at the fridge and then turning away.

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her, and buried her nose in the bouquet.

It would get better. It had to.

Didn't it?


End file.
